


Collection

by Aromarrym



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Roxas has amazing friends!, Roxas-Centric, Soroku if you squint, Written for Roxas Zine, puzzle pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aromarrym/pseuds/Aromarrym
Summary: Every night is the same scenario. In Roxas' dreams, there is but one constant: he must complete a certain jigsaw puzzle to unravel the mysteries which prey on his subconscious. The question is where to find those pieces, and how...As it turns out, being a somebody is more than just having his own life.
Relationships: Axel & Roxas & Xion (Kingdom Hearts), Hayner & Olette & Pence & Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Riku & Namine & Kairi, Roxas & Sora
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Collection

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece so long ago, I'm so happy to post it today! Kudos to all of my fellow Roxas Zine contributors and the mods who made the experience extremely fun!
> 
> I tried my best writing something slightly ambiguous and canon-related for dearest Roxas. My goal was to focus on the many friends he's made post KH3. I just want him to be happy!! I hope you all enjoy it too!

Every night is the same scenario. It’s a vision he knows all too well now; achromatic colours and blurred motions bleeding into the pure white space around him as soon as his head hits the pillow. Comfortable silence keeps him company — as does the sound of his breathing, barely audible until it peaks once or twice when he takes in more air into his lungs.

The feeling of weightlessness envelops him as he slowly drifts down onto the tiled floor. Once grounded, the young man rests on the back of his legs and peers at the very task before him, fixated on it like a spell.

Against the cool pristine lays a flat and incomplete jigsaw puzzle. Each connected piece is as blank as a freshly torn page, colourless and plain without a picture to go on. He traces the surface of each curious shape with a pale finger—as he does every night—but they keep their place on the half-completed board, never moving. 

Roxas wonders why. Why the pictureless puzzle is the way that it is, and why he feels a certain connection; a particular memory resurfacing with each different piece he thumbs over.

He pulls on the corner piece gently. It seems he can only place pieces in, but he cannot take any out. Roxas doesn’t know how many there currently are. His instincts, however, tell him that he’s the only one who can finish it; that it’s possible the dream will resolve itself once he follows through with the task.

So, he tries.

Roxas gets up. The vast, open space in his dreams is about as endless as he remembers. It would help if he knew where to look, but searching his surroundings proves futile as Roxas loses his bearings. The further he ventures, the less he recalls until he ends up in the same spot in front of the puzzle, confused and disoriented like he’d never even moved a step. 

Again, and again—he finds himself standing before the puzzle. Minutes tick by, and when the first toll of a distant bell interrupts his staring, Roxas notices the seams between pieces become indecipherable, _fusing and bleeding into the same stark white—_

Then he opens his eyes. 

Orange greets him in the morning, and the town’s clock tower rings five more times before he throws an arm over his face, turning away from the light. His bedroom floor is littered with lazily-strewn clothes and papers, his collection of seashells and polaroid photographs from all his great adventures.

No jigsaw puzzle to be seen.

Wasting no time, he stretches and and dresses quickly to grab breakfast, ready to tackle the new day.

* * *

He’s in the middle of his meal when he feels a quick tap on his shoulder, prompting him to turn around. They’ve arrived. Olette cheerfully waves at him, Hayner and Pence right behind her. They shuffle over to take the free seats at his table. While Hayner flags down a waiter, Pence picks at one of Roxas’ curly fries, grinning when the blonde doesn’t try to grab it back.

“I see you’ve already begun eating. You were supposed to wait for us, you know?” Hayner says, all in good cheer.

“You guys took too long. I already ordered dessert so feel free to get whatever you want. My treat.” He’s tried every sweet option on the menu save for the crepes suzette, which he’s happily looking forward to.

The new bistro in Twilight is one of Roxas’ favourite places to be. Soft chattering fills the space around him, a calming liveliness that makes the establishment feel like home; with sweet smells from freshly sautéed appetizers wafting all over the floor as the bistro’s loyal workers bring them to their patrons. Roxas tends to default to his favourite table near the kitchen where he has a full view of the workstation.

It’s not only the food that keeps him coming back. As he binges contentedly on the meals he can afford every now and then, the bistro has been a go-to place for him to meet up with his friends.

“Your treat, huh. You can’t take that back now,” Pence repeats his words, swiping another fry for himself. Olette swats his arm.

“You better not order another fortune,” she chastises. “You do know we’re lucky to be friends with Little Chef otherwise we’d be stuck washing dishes and paying full price.”

“It’s not my fault the food’s delicious! If you ask me, Roxas can eat more than all three of us combined.” He turns to Roxas. “You look a little exhausted though, are you alright? Have you been sleeping much?”

“Here and there.” Roxas replies. “There’s this dream that’s been keeping me up. Not to worry, I can handle it just fine.”

Olette looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t pry further. “If you say so.”

“Hey you two. Hurry up and pick a meal, the waiter’s on his way.”

Their service is seamless and within moments, steaming plates of the best meals in town are served alongside Roxas’ caramel dessert. While they dine, they discuss further plans for the day and any available mysteries to solve, their self-proclaimed sleuthing squad always up for a new challenge.

His memories of their past adventures remain fond but distant now—once upon a time in the other Twilight Town when summer’s end was the crux of their worries. They welcomed him like he’d always been a part of them. Even now—as Roxas glances over them, their connection as friends solidifies all the more, much like the promises they made as they shared ice cream underneath the clementine sunset.

“Oi!” Pence yells, feeling betrayed as both Hayner and Olette take a spoonful of his meal. “No fair! You guys can’t just take from me like that!”

“Nah. Super fair. This is revenge for Roxas,” says Hayner, his mouth full of savoury goodness.

“I second super fair. You deserve it.”

“Roxas!” Pence cries. “Help me out here, man.”

 _Salty, but sweet,_ like the days of pain and laughter he’d experienced then. Like this caramel dessert; the taste strong in his tongue, a melt-in-your-mouth type of sweetness he’ll remember for a very long time.

“Sorry. You’re on your own,” he jokes too, popping the last sliced strawberry into his mouth.

* * *

The following night, his repetitive dream takes a different turn.

No more endless wandering and waiting for a sign. When he floats back down before the puzzle, amber light falls onto his lap from above. It’s too bright to look at. 

The shine dissipates after a minute and provides Roxas with what he’s been looking for: a new piece to place down where the puzzle remains incomplete. He turns it in his hands, silently inspecting it. Blank. 

It fits on the left where the edge trails off. 

But nothing happens.

No epiphanies or bursts of congratulatory music; not yet anyway. There are still pieces missing.

* * *

Destiny Islands is at its best at the forefront of autumn. The sun’s rays have mellowed out, leaving no scorch marks where his skin isn’t covered. The prominent taste of seaweed and salt in the cold breeze is when he knows he’s home.

Occasionally, Roxas visits the tropics to indulge in activities he can’t easily do in Twilight. Riku, Kairi and Naminé always fetch him—sometimes together, sometimes just one of them at a time—and they jump into a full schedule of swimming, sandcastle building and keyblade practice. 

Riku makes the perfect sparring partner, charging at him with all he’s got. The clashing of blades isn’t drowned out by the sound of the waves, or excited cheers from the girls. Destiny’s shoreline is vast enough for them not to cause a disturbance, but they keep it to ten minutes per session just in case. 

Fatigue is quick to settle in their muscles. The first few times he’d visited, Riku would catch him off guard by racing him to the end of the beach as soon as he falls to the sand butt-first. He’s always been quick to learn. In due time, Roxas outsprints his silver-haired friend with a jeer on his lips, but Kairi is faster and waves at them both at the end before doubling over to catch her breath.

“I still… got it, hah. That’s what… thirty wins against twenty-one and twenty-seven? You boys better step up,” she brags, pointing a finger at them.

“You weren’t... sparring too. Of course you’d win,” Riku informs her. Naminé jogs towards them with bottles of water as refreshments. She hands one to Roxas and he thanks her, drinking his fill.

“Calling me a cheater, Riku?”

“Of course not. I’m merely stating the truth.”

Roxas wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and recaps the bottle, simply observing. The two of them bicker often. 

Not far from him, Naminé puts her hands together and suggests, “How about you all rest up and grab a bite? We brought sandwiches and cookies.”

“Sure,” Kairi says. “Let me just clean up all this sand first.” She gestures to her sandals.

“I’ll join you,” Roxas decides to come with, walking beside her.

“Aha! Last swim before lunch! Whoever gets to the shore last is a loser.”

“Seriously? We just ran a whole hundred metres!”

“Are you surrendering then?” Riku challenges smugly. Roxas and Kairi exchange knowing glances, and, with a subtle nod, they make a beeline for the beach once more before Riku notices.

It’s nice, getting to know Sora’s friends like this. Without hindrances; Roxas is able to make connections with the people most important to the person he once was. Although Sora always tells him that he is his own person—that he exists for himself—he can’t help the sheer restlessness slowly gnawing at him as it whispers haunting words; _that_ _he’ll always be an extension of someone else, that one day he’ll wake up and this will all be unreal, tied back down in his endless world of dreams—_

But he shakes it off, as he does with the sand in his shorts and slippers. Roxas washes it all away with each approaching wave, leaving clean footprints in his wake as he returns to his friends.

He opens the basket and finds cookies and star-shaped bread topped in paopu fruit jam. Roxas holds out the sandwich and, with a silent toast made to destiny, he savours the first of many more adventures.

* * *

_Once may be lucky but twice signifies a pattern_ , Roxas thinks when he finds himself kneeling before the puzzle in his dreams.

The first piece he’d laid some nights ago refuses to budge when he attempts to pry it off, but he recalls the strong scent of pastries and meat dishes, the distinctive _clink clank_ of spoons against warmed plates. This new piece reminds Roxas of the sea, the rush of water against his knees and the cooling wind blowing his dripping, dark blonde locks into his face.

He fits it next to the first, the ends of his mouth quirking upwards with how easy it falls into place.

 _Will I remember to find the next one when I wake up_ , Roxas asks himself.

If it means solving this mystery once and for all, he sure hopes he does.

* * *

“Hey Roxas. _Earth to Roxas_. You look completely out of it, my guy.”

The hand waving in front of him isn’t enough to break his reverie. Roxas only snaps out of it at the sound of his friend’s voice, and with a slow, mechanical turn of his head, he focuses, eyes glassy and strained. Axel takes pity on him. He offers Roxas a gentle pat, joking:

“You’re acting like you did when I first met you. You okay?”

That seems to annoy him. “And you’re just as witty as always, huh. I’ve been dreaming an awful lot lately. Some challenging puzzle I have to complete or something.”

“Ominous,” mutters Xion, her full attention on the upstream canal she’s trying to follow.

It goes without saying that his relationship with Axel and Xion is different from the rest. With them, Roxas isn’t afraid to be honest, to tell them exactly what’s bothering him without fear of judgement.

They’ve been trapped in their pasts for what feels like an eternity, friends for even longer, and now, in one of the most beautiful worlds he’s ever been to—a crystalline town with so much history and significance to Axel and Ventus—they keep those bonds strong. He hasn’t had a chance to befriend Ventus as much, but he remembers. Remembers the long, silent days spent sharing Sora’s heart.

The other blonde is by Xion’s side, his hand out to steady her as she walks. Even the smallest flowers prosper by the edge of the water. “I know that feeling. I spent a lot of time dreaming during my slumber,” Ven says. “Maybe… it’s a message from someone.”

Roxas nods. “I think so too. I just need to complete the puzzle, tough it out till the end.”

“Let us know when you do,” she says with a smile.

They track the upstream canal long enough to reach its source. Radiant Garden’s Fountain Court used to shine brighter in Ventus’ time, but with the world newly restored from ruins, it’s looking much better than it did as Hollow Bastion. The side gardens it is known for boasts vibrant colours of viridian and scarlet, violet in some patches of true perseverance.

Roxas is reminded of the other’s seniority when Ventus approaches him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do just fine, Roxas. If you get stuck, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

They may share the same face, the same hair and azure eyes but experience comes with time and knowledge. Behind them, Axel lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh man, this is _just great_. Does it still surprise me that all of us guardians of light are connected in some way or the other? Nah.”

“You better not be laughing at my predicament,” he lightly warns. “So we’re connected. The three of us wouldn’t be here living our fullest lives without Sora’s help.” It’s with a sombre tone when he says what everyone's thinking then and always:

_“I hope he finds his way back home soon.”_

* * *

It has to be the last one.

In his room of bland colours and unblemished floors, Roxas stares intensely at the hard shape in his hands. It’s no different than the rest. It takes him back to a place of many flowers, a city of eternal immaculacy and the promise of restoring back what once was whole.

His heart thuds in his chest, harsh breath catching in his throat, eyes shut tight before peeling them open again as he slots the white piece where it needs to go. A bright glow in the distance, a loud toll of victory—Roxas keeps his senses alert for his final sign.

Moments pass.

He started with nothingness, and he ends with nothingness. His shoulders—tense as they are, drop almost immediately, chapped lips pursed tightly and blunt nails digging into his palms.

Was… Was his quest all for nought? What was the point? Had he been too impatient, is he too late?

He doesn’t notice a figure occupying the space beside him for a while, curiously watching him lose his motivation. 

“Hey there.”

“S-Sora!” Roxas gasps audibly. “What are you d-doing here?”

“Oh, I’m here to help. You look like you could use it.” He moves from his squatting position to sitting on his knees, dutifully inspecting the puzzle. “You’re still missing one, did you know? Right over here, in the middle.”

He taps at the gap Roxas had overlooked.

“I see.”

“You’ve figured it out, right?” Dream-Sora says. “The puzzle represents your connections to others. Each piece is a fragment of your memories and mine; and all you need now is that last connection to finish it.”

“And _where_ … Where else can I get it?” he asks out loud, hoarsely and confused. He’s traversed the worlds for each new piece. Strengthened those connections with his friends. Where else is he supposed to look _now?_ What is he to do?

“You don’t need to do anything. It’s over here.”

Just like that, Dream-Sora flashes him a smile and hands over the last piece, waiting for Roxas to take it. He drops it in his Other’s hands.

Blank like the rest of the puzzle. Of course.

His first and last connection; the reason for his existence. Roxas thanks him and wastes no time pressing it into the finished puzzle, but.

_But it refuses to fit._

“Sora, I can’t make—” he is about to say, but like thin air, the brunette is gone the next moment. The shape looks right in his hands, but when he tries to force it in, it changes and fights him adamantly.

He tries, and tries again.

“Why won’t you fit in? _What is wrong with you?”_ Brows furrowed, he feels the frustration in his nerves before the piece burns him, and he drops it, turning it over.

Every night is the same scenario. Each connected piece is pristine like pure light, but for the first time in his endless dreams, Roxas sees saturated pigments.

_“You don’t need me anymore.”_

He’s independent now.

There’s a small weight in his pockets that he hadn’t noticed before. He fishes it out and lets out a small chuckle, his world bursting into a thousand colours when he puts it back where it belongs. Carmine, vermillion, sapphire and green—wherever he turns is iridescent. Joy and warm sunshine smiles fill the bottom of his beating heart, and the telltale sound of a bell ringing somewhere makes him forget the wetness rolling down his face.

* * *

Roxas holds on.

Twilight grants him another day under the setting sun, feeling well-rested and refreshed for a change. As he sidesteps his strewn clothes and knicknacks many, he heads downstairs, completely oblivious of the jigsaw piece that falls out of his pillow.


End file.
